A Dictionary of Terms for the Shafted: political policing

This is the second installment of the dictionary. I felt we needed new terms to help us describe the increasing intimidation of protesters in the UK.

Kettle of First Resort: The use of ‘containment’ – holding people against their will and without intention to charge them – as a standard tactic rather than (as claimed) as a last resort.

Open Kettle: A variant of the above, but with porous police lines. The intention is to take control of the space from the protest while allowing individuals to move through the lines. An Open Kettle can become a standard kettle at any moment.

Pressure Cooker: An Open Kettle in which the police progressively move inwards, diminishing the space in which the protesters can move. Those who maintain this is not meant to be intimidating are welcome to stand inside one.

Threatening Letters: Sent to ‘known protesters’ before a protest, to threaten them with the law if they don’t obey the law. Also useful if you’ve lost your diary and can’t remember when the next protest is.

Bouncer Bill: searching people on the way to protests. The victims are chosen according to a set of unstated prejudices and like the bigotted bouncer at the door of the nightclub, the excuse is ‘the safety of everyone’, even though these searches never uncover anything.

March Under Siege: A protest march that is only allowed to move under control of the police to the front, rear and sides of the march. Announcing your route helps the police lay the siege.

Polluted Protest: A protest in which there are so many undercover police that no one will be able to tell afterwards which side did what to who.

Shock And Awe Teams: also known as ‘snatch squads’ – the use of overwhelming violence to take out minor perceived threats. The police launch themselves into a crowd with batons at the ready and emerge with a candidate for the next definition.

Restrained Violence: Police violence against one already restrained, whether on the ground or in cuffs.

Public Exposure: Targetting the media with stories about your enormous weaponry in the days before a protest so as to intimidate those going.

Time-restricted Liberty: The setting of a definite time limit on your right to assembly and expression. The police attempt to send people home after this, like teachers telling children playtime is over.

A Successful Protest: In police language, this means one sufficiently dampened by police threats and violence that it can be ignored by the establishment.

Political Vetting: The bit in the post-protest press conference where the police spokesman outlines who was or was not a ‘legitimate’ protester.

Total Policing: Er, presumably the kind of policing you expect in a totalitarian state. This is the latest Metropolitan Police slogan.

Me and the rioters: what we might have in common

In memoriam: because there are links

The premise of this post will seem silly to some people. It seems slightly silly even to me. But it is a response to a lot of crap written about rioters from both left and right. This post is about what I and the participants in the recent riots have in common. The point is not to obsess about myself. I want to do it because so many people have been talking about ‘them’, as though they are fundamentally different from ‘us’, whoever the hell ‘us’ is (I know I have more in common with an ocelot than I do with David Starkey and I barely even know what an ocelot is).

A lot of the speakers and writers have sounded very sure of themselves too, especially when demonstrating their moral superiority to rioters, whether referring to them as animals or as lumpenproletariat. It is a politician’s job to sound sure of themselves so that we don’t guess they wank over their work colleagues and aren’t sure what life is about and wake up in the night with the horrors just like we do. There’s far less justification for those outside the Parliament of Performing Seals to sound so sure of themselves.

While thinking about what I could be sure of I realised that I was more sure about what I had in common with the various rioters than what separates us. What separates us on the surface seems very obvious: I have a good and expensive education, largely paid for by the state – I was almost the last intake with LEA grants. Most of the people on the street probably don’t have that and will probably never get the chance. But then, maybe there were more people of my ‘demographic’ out there but their sense of self-preservation was stronger – perhaps they looked over the shoulder for the police more because they had more to lose. We have no idea whether the arrests reflect the people out on the streets looting.

I’m a bit older than your average rioter, but then, some of the rioters (Or people, as they are also known) arrested were around my age, so let’s not generalise. Because I look a bit more middle class and white than most of them, I suspect I get less harrassment from the police. Police harrassment was a huge factor in the riots in some areas, and those on the street attacked the police because that was what they most wanted to do. Let’s not generalise though: in some areas the focus was more on looting than on fighting the police.

Another difference between me and most of the rioters is that I have a job. That’s not true of all of the looters: the employed were there too, though no one took a straw poll of what their jobs are and whether they are better or worse than mine. Because I have a job and most of them don’t, I have more money than most of the people out on the street. I am able to buy what I need with some left over and on balance the work I do is not bad.

There is a difference between me and a few of the rioters: I have the empathy and impulse control not to take out my anger and frustration through violence against people. I would not burn down shops with homes above them. Nor, of course, would most of the rioters (people, remember?). I would want to check a retail park thoroughly for human occupants before setting light to it. I would assume that a combination of their family and peer environments has created most of the difference. But this too is a guess, and I am sure that some of the respectable middle class people who expressed such disgust at the rioting would look on rioting very differently if other respectable middle class people were doing it too. Something most people share is a shit ability to resist peer pressure.

I’m not crazily sure about a lot of the above differences. There’s a lot of guesswork in there, and different people are…different. You know? As the above issue of mob behaviour hints at, we should be very careful about assuming that what is going on in the minds of rioters and looters we haven’t met is really that different from what is going on in our minds. Middle class people can also do horrible things because everyone around them is doing it too, and they do it from their position of comfort, not from a collective outburst of pent-up frustration.

But now onto things I have in common with the people who were out on the streets last week.  There may be things I share that I can’t know since I didn’t ask people: taste in music, hatred of Michael McIntyre, a dislike of complacency, a caffeine addiction. Who knows on these counts? But it is obvious I would share some of these things and not others. To me at least it is obvious: I’m not sure it is to the baying mob calling for their blood. I suspect they see most of the ‘rioters’ as fundamentally alien to them. Who knows what horrible vices lurk in their dark, immoral hearts etc etc.

But on to the more general commonalities,  and a few of these I can feel more sure about – while remembering that all the rioters were different.  Despite a ‘middle class’ upbringing my family had neither money nor power. I have no contacts in high places. I have no powerful friends. I can’t call a journalist up and ask them to defend me. By dint of my education I may be able to phrase myself in a way more acceptable to mainstream discourse (See, I used the word discourse! Clever old me!) and yet despite this I feel that the difference in powerlessness between me and those other people on the streets is actually quite marginal. They are not ‘important’ and nor am I.

This leads to us sharing certain things whether we want to or not. The politicians do not give a fuck about us. The big media organisations do not give a fuck about us. Any campaigning organisations that attempt to ‘represent’ us get sucked up into a state machinery that removes them from us and undoes their work. As for parliament representing me, the idea just strikes me as fucking absurd. I don’t think it would help if I voted either, and I don’t think it would help the rioters. That is not the problem. The problem is that ‘representation’ is a con. It always was. It doesn’t work. I feel it and so do plenty of others.

There is something fundamental we also share in our relationships to companies and corporations. Those companies and corporations make things for me when I have the money or will to pay, but as soon as I don’t they are not interested in me. That seems obvious of course – but is it so obvious that our main economic organising units, as legally created by the state, should be founded upon pure selfishness? Whether or not you think it reasonable, you’ve got to agree that once you are not suckling at their tits any more, the relationship between us and the corporations is over. They don’t feel they owe us anything – despite occupying the physical and mental space all around us and controlling most of our resources – so we don’t feel we owe them anything. Why should we? There is nothing between us. Except the advertising we can’t escape. We owe them nothing.

This leads on to my dislike of the police. I hate the Met for being racist. I hate them for their role in keeping a lid on ‘social disorder’ that usually appears in response to organised theft from above. I hate them because I have witnessed them mobilise large numbers in defence of corporate property and not care who they had to hurt to defend what is only stuff. I hate them because their role is to freeze power relations where they are. And I don’t have any. We don’t have any.

There is something that most of us in Britain share at the moment. While I do have a job, I would like to move jobs but I can’t. There aren’t any jobs to move to. Boohoo, you say. But it stings because a few years ago it would have been easy. Someone else fucked up my economy (it was never mine, it turns out) and as a result the horizons of my present have contracted. Having got myself into a good position just before the Credit Theft (as we should rightly call it) I have not yet had my present crushed into a small box on a benefits application form, but I am aware of the loss of opportunity and aware it might get worse yet. I am aware too that the price of food and fuel and transport is going up while my income stays the same. We are all getting poorer by the day. This hasn’t reduced my standard of living yet but some people will already have reduced their food expenditure because of it. They won’t have had a choice.

One thing we share looms largest of all. I might phrase this a little differently from a lot of the people on the street last week, but we are still aware of the process we are undergoing. A particular form of governing has arisen in which the balance of powers and the triumph of certain rhetoric within public debate actively facilitates the removal of wealth from us so that it can be handed to those who already have most of it. This is an ongoing project, currently undergoing considerable intensification, with us as the target. We have lost free education, we are in the process of losing welfare, and the NHS is being sold off, one billion pounds at a time. Housing policy is deliberately tilted towards those who own much of the property already. I do not expect to have universal healthcare when I am older. I do not expect to own a home that will fund my retirement. I do not expect to have a welfare safety net worthy of the name. I do not expect to have a pension that will feed and house me decently. Nor did anyone on the streets last week. Perhaps they’re not fucking idiots after all. Not nearly as idiot as the people who think the government is saving them from the evil deficit and who blithely assume that their lives are going to stay as comfortable as they have been for the last fifty years.

My future is diminishing as my present is contracting. And I have no idea how to fight it yet.

Our future is diminishing as our present is contracting. And we have no idea how to fight it yet.

The last thing we share is this: I need a new computer. One from PC World would do just fine.